


Gonna Be 500 Miles

by Grammarwoman



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, NCIS
Genre: Community: intoabar, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grammarwoman/pseuds/Grammarwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover with BtVS, for the [community profile] intoabar Fall 2010 challenge.  Willow Rosenberg plays hooky in Edinburgh; Ducky gives her some sage advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Be 500 Miles

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the [](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**intoabar**](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/) 2010 challenge, originally posted [here](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/10656.html). The title is taken from the Proclaimers song - it seemed to work nicely, as this is set in Edinburgh and they’re proud sons of Leith. (The fact that Google Maps says it’s about 400 miles from Westbury, where Willow was hanging with the coven, to Edinburgh was the cherry on top.)

Ducky nursed his drink, a lovely aged Scotch. He chuckled, pondering how it bore a certain resemblance to himself. He gazed fondly at the gleaming wood of the walls around him; the bar had changed not a whit from when he was a student at the university. A few pensioners in the corner argued over their pints, a discussion that had probably endured for decades. A group of youngsters that looked barely old enough to drink laughed and pounded on each other’s shoulders. A businessman harrumphed and shook his pages at the noise, and the bartender wiped glasses and stacked them.

Then a young redheaded woman walked in, glancing around and over her shoulder. She looked tired and a bit scared, nervous as if she expected someone was following her, yet not enough to be in a panic. She sighed and sat down at the bar.

“Something to drink, please.” Her voice was soft and breathy, and very obviously American. On closer inspection, her fatigue was more pronounced and marked with sadness.

“Anything in particular, love?” asked the bartender.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she said. “Um, a beer? I guess?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. “A beer, yes, please.”

The bartender pulled a pint and set it in front of her. “You need anything else?”

“No, that’s fine, that’s great, thanks.” She flashed a quick grin at him that faded as soon as he turned. She took a sip of the beer and winced at the taste.

Ducky was torn; the girl was a story that cried out to be told, but the hunch of her shoulders did not invite company. He swallowed the last sip of his drink and regarded the empty glass. It wasn’t going to fill itself, after all, so he walked up to the bar.

“Another, please,” he told the bartender. He turned to the girl. “Your Titian tresses proclaim you to be a right bonnie lass, but the sound of your words place you as far from home.”

Her hand darted up to touch her hair, then back down to her lap. She smiled wanly at him. “I’m visiting friends.” Her eyes flickered to the door and back.

“Fine friends that would drive you to drink alone,” he said, nodding at the bartender as he filled his glass.

“Um, I needed a little break.” She coughed. “Well, really, I think they needed a little break from me.”

“Come now, my dear, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

“Worse, actually,” she muttered into her pint.

He took a moment to savor the taste of his drink and turned to her as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Why, how exceedingly rude of me! I’ve failed to introduce myself - Dr. Donald Mallard. But please, cal me Ducky.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up. “Ducky? Really?” Her eyes twinkled for just a moment. “Willow. Willow Rosenberg.”

“A fair and flowery name for such a lovely lady.” Ducky smiled at her. She cast her gaze downward, but a genuine grin lit up her face.

“I fear I must confess to you, young Miss Willow, that I find myself plagued with curiosity about what has brought you to this fine establishment and away from the company of your friends.” Ducky waited, hoping he’d put the right mix of friendliness and an offer of a listening ear into his words.

She heaved a great sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Ducky cocked his head at her, letting his silence draw out her story.

“The people I’m visiting aren’t really my friends. They’re my...teachers. And today got kind of out of hand, so I thought I’d take a little trip, get away for a bit.” She shrugged. “Somehow, I wound up here in Edinburgh.”

“You’ve had enough lessons, is it?”

She shook her head quite emphatically. “No! Not at all. I need way more lessons.”

“Not a good student, then?”

She snorted. “You could say I’m a bad student, at least in their eyes.” Her emphasis on the word ‘bad’ was odd. “But I need them and their lessons, if I...”

“If you?” he prompted.

She took a large gulp from her pint and winced again. “I did something, something kinda horrible at home, and I can’t go back until I know that it won’t happen again.”

“It must have been something dreadful then.”

She shuddered and said very seriously, “Trust me, it was.”

Ducky clucked sympathetically. “You make it sound like it was the end of the world.”

She sprayed the sip she’d just taken all over herself and the bar in front of her and started coughing. Ducky dug out his handkerchief and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said and mopped at her blouse.

Ducky waited for her coughing to subside. “So, do you have a plan in place for your atonement, or are you hiding here indefinitely?”

“I’m not hiding!” she said, a bit too loud. The others in the bar glanced over at her. She lowered her voice and repeated, “I’m not hiding!”

“Of course, my dear.” He nodded sagely and turned back to his drink.

Her head fell forward to land on her crossed arms. Ducky blinked; surely her glass hadn’t moved all by itself out of the way. It must have skidded on the puddle of condensation.

“I’m totally hiding,” she moaned, muffled from where her face was buried. “I’m a big, fat, hiding person.”

“Seeing as you are neither big nor fat, I find the truth in your statement to be highly questionable.”

“You sound like Giles,” she said, still speaking into her arms.

“Is Giles one of your teachers?” he asked.

She sat up. “No. I mean yes. I mean, he’s a teacher and a friend. At least, I think he’s still a friend.”

“Ah, that’s a rare combination, teacher and friend: one to be treasured.” He toasted her with his glass.

“Yeah, seeing as he might be my only friend left, really rare.”

“So, this horrible thing you say you did. I’m guessing that it had something to do with these friends of whom you are no longer certain?”

She nodded.

Ducky continued, “I may be old-fashioned, but I believe even young people nowadays have this remarkable method of communication called ‘talking’. You may have heard of it?”

“But how can I talk to them when I don’t know if they’ll forgive me? I don’t know if I can even forgive myself!” Willow twisted the handkerchief into knots.

“So that’s what this about, then.” Ducky gulped indecorously from his glass. “A thorny problem, to be sure.” He sighed heavily. “I fear there are events in our lives, trespasses that we make, that prove greater than our power to forgive ourselves.”

“So what do you do, then?” She snuffled, sounding suspiciously close to tears.

He looked at her solemnly. “You give yourself permission to learn from your mistakes, so that they may not happen again, and in penance, you force yourself to move on with your life, to prove that you can change.”

“But what if you do mess up again?”

“Then you surround yourself with people who can help. Which is why it does you no good to remove yourself from those who would aid you without giving them the chance to do so.”

She scowled at him. “Now you really sound like Giles.”

“Really? Perhaps I should meet this man, and take my measure of my supposed doppelganger.”

“No!” Her hands waved in frantic negation. “Double Giles is not a good idea, trust me. Double anybody never works out well.”

“Ah.” He wondered at her curious choice of words. “I hope, in any case, that I have not unduly strained your patience with the ramblings of an old man.”

She took a deep breath. “Nah. I needed to hear it. I guess that I do need to go back and face the music.” She grinned ruefully at him. “Thanks, Ducky.”

He sketched a quick bow to her. “I live to serve, my dear Willow.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to his drink.

“I couldn’t possibly allow you -” he said.

“Please,” Willow said. “I think I should start paying my debts.”

“Then by all means.”

She peeled off several bills and tossed them down. “Thanks,” she told the bartender. She turned to Ducky. “Does it really work like that? Moving on after a huge mistake?”

“Every theory must be tested. Only you can say if it’s the right solution for you.”

“It’s back to school for me, then.” Willow took a couple steps towards the door before she spun around. She dashed back and impulsively hugged him, then drew back. “I hope that’s OK?” she asked.

He smiled. “I am truly honored, my dear. Now off with you - I’m sure your teachers and your friends are anxiously awaiting your return.”

“I hope so.” She walked to the door. Just before she stepped through, she turned back to him. “Hey, Ducky! Maybe someday we can both master this forgiveness thing.” With a wave, she left.

He got up with his glass and returned to his table. He said softly to himself, “Perhaps someday, child. Alas for me, that day is not today.”  



End file.
